A Selfless Act
by EternityOx
Summary: Stuck in limbo, Doyle's love for Cordelia refuses to let him move on after death. But all demons go to hell, even the good ones. The hounds are coming for him, but he stands his ground. Can a selfless act from Cordelia save him before it's too late?
1. The First Hero Falls

**A/N;** My first fan fiction for Cordelia Chase and Allan Francis Doyle, though it certainly won't be my last I hope. This is my all time favourite pairing. I absolutely adore them and I always have done. I've always resented the fact that their relationship came to an end before it could even begin and the story of Glenn Quinn is so tragic, too. Doyle's character has a strong place in my heart.

This chapter was emotional to write, aha. I sound so darkish, but I really don't care. It was sad enough watching Doyle's death, but typing it was even worse. I changed Cordelia's reaction slightly. Don't bitch at me for it. Don't bitch at me for anything in fact. If you have a problem with the way I write things, don't bother reading, aha. I've never had tacky reviews yet, but I've seen some people review other stories rudely and it's just disrespectful.

I don't have a BETA reader yet. I proof read it myself, though I can't promise that there are no mistakes. If you want to be my BETA reader, I would really appreciate it! (: So yeah. I think that's all the author notes I need to do.

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**DISCLAIMER; **I do not own anything and I never will. I wish I owned Doyle, but I don't. The only thing I own is my imagination and that is all. Everything else belongs to its rightful owners. I am not getting any credit out of other people's creations.

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**A SELFLESS ACT;  
**_Cordelia Chase/Allen Francis Doyle  
_**Doyle's death devastated many, though affected Cordelia the most. All chances of telling him how she felt **lost**. All chances of having a happy ending with her funny little Irishman **gone. **Six months have passed and Cordelia is learning to cope with her visions; learning to cope without him. But just as she decides it's time to move on, he returns to her; calling for her help. He's not really there...is he? Stuck in limbo, refusing to let go, Doyle's love for Cordelia has him clinging on. He refuses to depart before he gets one last chance to tell her how he felt. But can he tell her before the hell hounds finally tear him down to the fiery pits? Can Cordelia save him in a selfless act of love? **

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**CHAPTER ONE; **THE FIRST HERO FALLS  
**SONG; **STAY WITH ME – DANITY KANE

"What does that thing do?"

Eyes were wide in terror as Doyle voiced the question everybody on the boat wanted to know. Cordelia usually found comfort in that soft, Irish accent but right now, there was no comfort to be found. All that could be found right now was fear, confusion, nerves, panic...nothing positive; nothing to lean into. The light of the beacon that had descended from the air was growing brighter and brighter as the seconds ticked by. The demons below were clinging to each other, murmuring words to one another, some of them already saying their goodbyes because they assumed that this was going to be the end; that no promised one was going to save them.

But somebody would save them; Angel would save them...wouldn't he? That was what he did; that was what all three of them did. They helped the helpless. Angel was going to find a way out of this and Doyle was going to help. Cordelia was certain of this; Cordelia _had _to be certain of this. However, no matter how certain she was, her heart was still pounding against her chest, her breathing somewhat more laboured than usual where her chest had tightened in anxiety.

"Its light kills anything with human blood." Angel tried to murmur his words, but some ears still picked up on them, including Cordelia's. Her eyes widened and she watched as Doyle's face paled more so if that was even possible. She took a step forward, moving towards the two males in her life, hoping, practically _praying _that they had a plan. They _had _to have a plan. If they didn't have a plan, they were all going to die. Everyone in this boat, her, Angel...Doyle; they would all be killed by this light that was forming. No; damnit. They couldn't die. LA needed Angel. These demons had families. Doyle had finally asked her out on a god damn date; they weren't allowed to die!

"Well, it's getting brighter and that doohickey – "Doyle paused as if a realization had just slapped him around the face, his eyes turning to look at Angel. "It's fully armed, isn't it?"

"Almost." Angel murmured. There sounded as if there was intention in his voice. Cordelia felt a tiny twinge of hope; surely that intention meant he had a plan? Angel's eyes flickered onto her form for just half a second, before moving to look back at his Irish friend. "If I pull the cable, I think I can still shut it off."

Doyle didn't look like he liked this plan and Cordelia frowned, trying to find fault with it. "How're you going to do that without touching the light?" He asked quietly, his head tilting to one side, his eyebrows knitting down into a frown.

Angel didn't say anything. He was silent. He stared at his friend and the look in his eyes said everything his silence didn't; he wasn't going to be able to do that without touching the light. Cordelia's eyes flickered onto the light as she bit down on her bottom lip – but then...if he touched the light, it would kill him. He had human blood in him. He might be a vampire, but Cordelia knew that this would kill him. "Angel, that's suicide!" She exclaimed, her head snapping to look back at her overhanging forehead friend, shaking her head viciously just to show how much she disliked this idea.

"There's got to be another way." Doyle sounded just as panicked as Cordelia, disagreeing with it as much as she did. There _had _to be another way; right?

Angel glanced at Doyle, then down the demons. They were all looking up at them, so scared but still so hopeful. He had to save them. This was what he did now; he saved people. They might be demons but they weren't bad. They were good; they were worth saving and he wasn't about to just let them die – not on his watch. Slowly, he turned back to look at Cordelia, trying to look reassuring. "It's alright..."

"No!" Cordelia half shouted, shaking her head once more, refusing to believe that this was their only option. She took a step forward, but then she noticed the light getting brighter and her head snapped in direction of the beacon, holding her breath as it caught in a lump at the back of her throat.

Angel tried to ignore the look on Cordelia's face as he turned to look back at Doyle. There was sorrow in his eyes, but beyond that, there was determination. His arm lifted, his hand moving down to rest on Doyle's shoulders as their eyes connected. There was a knowing look in Doyle's eyes as he stared at his friend; an understanding look and Angel took it the wrong way. He saw it as Doyle respecting his decision. He saw it as Doyle realizing Angel needed to do this. If only he had known what was going on inside of Doyle's mind; if only he had been able to look further and realize his friend didn't understand his decision...but was making his own. If Angel had just seen this, maybe he would have been able to stop what was about to happen; maybe he would've been able to save him.

Doyle lifted his own arm and his hand moved to rest on Angel's arm. There was fear in his face; his body shaking slightly as he gazed at his friend. "The good fight, yeah?" He questioned and Angel nodded his head. Angel had no idea that he was actually helping his friend make such a life changing decision by answering. Doyle swallowed dryly; "You never know until you've been tested..." Blue eyes flickered down and Doyle looked at the demons below. This was what he had to do. He didn't want to leave; god, no, Doyle didn't want to die. There were so many things he that he wanted to stay with; whiskey, strip clubs, hot dogs, gambling...Cordelia Chase. But this was what he had to do. Angel was a warrior; Angel was the true protector. Doyle had just been a link; a player in the deadly game and now he was losing. He had let his family die once. He had refused to help them and they had suffered because of this. He wouldn't do that again; he would save them and in the process...he would save others by saving Angel – by saving Cordelia. "I get that now." He whispered, his eyes looking back at Angel.

Realization hit Angel. His eyes went wide and he parted his mouth to quickly protest, but he never got the chance. Doyle moved too quickly. Doyle hauled himself back, drawing his arm away and then thrusting his fist forward, punching Angel hard in the face. Cordelia gasped in shock as the vampire stumbled backwards and his body tumbled over the railing, falling down onto the cargo below with a groan, the fall catching him off guard and leaving him somewhat unable to move for a few moments; dazed and confused. Doyle didn't waste any time. He knew he didn't have long. Turing around, his blue orbs fell upon the woman he adored so much. He regretted never being brave enough to tell her how he felt; to admit his feelings for her...to admit that he had fallen in love with her. He was stupid, but he couldn't linger on that. Regret was nothing now; hesitation didn't exist and he moved forward, walking towards her as she stood there, staring at him.

Cordelia watched the man approach; the man she had spent so much time mocking when really, she had fallen for him. Her eyes were wide and her lips parted. Part of her knew what he was doing; knew what he was planning to do but she didn't want to think it. She tried to convince herself she was wrong, but she wasn't. Suddenly, Doyle's fingers ran through her hair, his hand moving to the back of her head as he pulled her face closer to his. His mouth was warm against hers as he crushed a kiss to her mouth and her eyes instantly fluttered shut. Her hand lifted, resting on his arm and body leaned into his as she kissed him back; kissed him for all that she could while he kissed her as if it were their last. Cordelia was so lost in his touch – which wasn't nearly as clumsy as she had imagined it would be, far from in fact – that she didn't notice the strange blue light that passed between them, moving from his lips and to her own before shimmering away. She didn't feel that dull throb suddenly appear in the back of her head as the visions moved their way into her. All she could feel was his tongue as it moved against hers, slow but passionate. He tasted like a mixture of whiskey and stale smoke, but she found she liked the way he tasted. It was something she could find herself getting addicted to...though she knew she shouldn't because this was the first and last time she was going to taste it. His tongue was moist against hers; warm. The way his fingers groped in her hair was dominating, but gentle, reminding her that she had a choice. Her body hummed with content, but her heart pounded, her palms sweated...she didn't want this to end, but soon, his mouth was departing from hers, the heat of his body abandoned her as he stepped away.

He didn't want to pull away from her. Doyle would have given anything and everything to stay there, with her, clutching at him and kissing him. She tasted as sweet as he had imagined in his dreams. Everything about her seemed to scream perfection, despite her demanding and superficial ways. God, he was going to miss her. The thought of leaving her tore him up inside, but he had to. He had to do this for her, for them...for himself. This was what the Powers That Be had intended for him when they sent him to Angel. He could see that this was his destiny; he could feel it. This was his second chance; to right the wrong that he had made in the past. He couldn't save Lucas and his clan, but he could save this clan; he could save Rieff and the rest of the Listers. He had to do this. He just wished that he didn't have to leave Cordelia in the process. There was still so much he wanted to tell her, so many things he wanted do with her, so many moments he wanted to share. He regretted holding back now; regretted fearing her rejection. If he had just taken the chance, been daring and risked it, maybe things would have been different. Maybe this wouldn't have been their first and last kiss, but just their last. He supposed they would never know now. Hearing Angel grumble his name, he slowly and reluctantly pulled away from their kiss, knowing he had to move fast before Angel stopped him.

Her eyes were wide when they opened, staring at him while her breath caught in her throat. She wanted to pull him back to her, wanted to cling hold of him and beg him not to go. She knew that was what he was planning to do; he was planning to leave. He wanted to take Angel's place on this ridiculous suicide mission; he wanted to be the hero. She didn't want him to be the hero though – not at the expense of his life. Perhaps it was selfish, but she didn't care. Doyle couldn't die. Doyle owed her a date, Doyle was...Doyle. It felt as if he had always been there, he couldn't just leave like this.

"Too bad we'll never know..." Doyle spoke and she clung to every single one of his words. Suddenly, his face began to morph. Spikes began to appear, numerous amounts, too many for her to count and his skin complexion changed to a pale green. Red eyes stared at her and despite the harshness of the colour; there was so much pain in those eyes as he said his goodbyes. Cordelia didn't find herself withdrawing. She didn't care that he was half demon and it wasn't as if she hadn't seen scarier. She'd seen way scarier than this; such as the Scourge. All she could do was stare at him, her hand twitching where she wanted to reach out and touch him, to press a finger to the spikes to see how sharp they were, to explore this whole new side to Doyle that she would never actually get to know but she was frozen on the spot. "If this is a face you could learn to love." Doyle finished his sentence in that sweet, accented voice and Cordelia felt as if somebody had just taken her heart into their palm and clenched their fist around it, crunching it, wrenching it. Tears were brimming in her eyes as she watched him turn away from her and she took one step forward, preparing to stop him but she knew she wouldn't be able to.

"Doyle..." She could hear Angel murmuring from below as she finally pulled himself to his feet. He stumbled though, still drowsy from his fall and therefore didn't move as fast he could. He would move in time though; he would stop Doyle. Cordelia tried to tell herself this but she could tell by the way that Doyle was already edging towards the barrier that Angel would be too late. "Doyle...Doyle!" Angel was shouting his friends name now, yelling at him as he raced towards the ladder, grabbing hold of the bars as he began to move himself up them, climbing up as fast as he could. "Doyle!" He reached the top of the platform, just in time to see Doyle suddenly leap, his body flying through the air, heading straight towards the beacon. "NO!" Angel yelled loudly, his voice echoing around the boat as he watched the friend who had become more like a brother to him land on the beacon.

Cordelia wanted to scream. She wanted to beg him to come back but all she could do was stare as Doyle's head slowly turned towards them. His eyes stared at them and then he did it; he smiled. It was that trademark smile Cordelia had grown to love; so cheeky, so full of life, so...knowing. He knew what he was doing was brave; he knew this was what he had to do. He was their protector; their promised one. Cordelia blinked and a tear fell from her eye, rolling down her cheek as she rubbed her lips together, heading falling to one side. Why couldn't she scream? She should be stopping him but all she was doing was standing there. She felt so useless. Angel was gripping hold of the railing, his teeth grinding together, his eyes wide and his knuckles whiter than normal as he stared helplessly, watching his friend die, unable to help him now that he had overstepped the boundaries and jumped across.

Doyle's smile soon faded as he turned back round, their back now to them as his hands pulled at the cable, trying to tear it apart, putting all his strength into switching this damn light off. Pain was coursing through his body as the light began to work its magic on him, triggering as it felt the human blood moving through his veins. He felt his face shift, felt his demonic appearance fade away as he morphed back into his human form. The pain began to grow even more excruciating. The light was burning him; he could feel it. His body was shaking and his flesh was beginning to peel away from his bone. His teeth ground together so hard that he was certain any second now he would break his own jaw. He didn't let any of this stop him though. He continued to tug at the cable, his fingers crumbling as the flesh melted. The light got brighter and brighter; he heard someone scream, heard someone sob. Was it Cordelia? He didn't have time to look. The cable suddenly pulled apart, broke and the light got brighter than ever. He wanted to scream out in pain but he didn't even have the table as his body burnt up, until there was nothing left – not even dust. He was gone.

The light faded. The beacon went dark. The boat was silent as they all stared at the place Doyle had stood just seconds before.

Cordelia was the first to make noise. "No!" She screamed in denial, shaking her head. She took in a sharp gasp for air, one tear falling from her eyes, following by a second...a third, more kept coming. Taking a step forward, she moved towards the barrier, wanting to get a closer look, hoping to find some hope that Doyle was there; that he wasn't gone. Strong arms caught her as Angel took a step forward, his arms moving around her waist to prevent her from getting too close to the edge. His own eyes were stinging with salty tears at the realization that Doyle was gone. His chest felt restricted and even though he didn't need oxygen, he was suddenly struggling to breathe. Doyle was gone. The first solider had fallen.

Cordelia struggled for a few moments, desperately trying to get to the barrier and she even screamed out Doyle's name, her tone sounding so desperate and pleading, begging for an Irish accent to answer her, but it didn't. There was nothing. "Doyle..." She repeated, choking on a sob as she did so. Her cheeks were soaked with tears now, but she didn't care. He had been there just seconds ago and now it was like he had never existed; like he had never even been there with her, kissing her, holding her...there wasn't a single trace of him, not even a body.

"He's gone, Cordelia..." Angel told her, but he sounded shocked and dazed, as if he were not only trying to convince her, but himself as well. Doyle had been like a brother to him. They had been close and Angel hadn't been able to save him. That was what he was supposed to do; he was supposed to save people. Why was it he never managed to save the people that actually meant something to him; the ones he loved? Why did they always have to be the ones he couldn't help? "He's gone..." He choked on his own words, a tear falling from his eye as he felt her body stop struggling. She shook her head as if trying to deny his words, but deep down, she knew he was right; Doyle _was _gone.

Cordelia's body crumbled downwards, grief consuming her, making her unable to take her own weight. Angel moved down with her, refusing to let go of her, needing to comfort her and needing her comfort as well. Her knees hit the cold floor beneath them and Angel's did too. He kept her close to his chest, rocking her slightly. Her hands were gripping at his shirt, clutching at the material as her whole body shuddered with her crying. He wanted to say something; wanted to soothe her, but he couldn't because Angel knew how she was feeling; he was feeling it too. He just remained, the sound of her sobs wrenching at everybody's heart as they echoed around the heavy walls, the noise heart breaking. Angel's eyes fell shut as he kept her close, his own cheeks wet as one hand moved to the back of her head, resting there as he tried to calm her down but she was a mess; she was broken. This wasn't a side to Cordelia that Angel had seen before and he didn't like it. He didn't want to see it or hear it.

The Listers had been right; their prophecy had been right. There _had _been a promised one to save them; a protector to guide them to their new life but it hadn't been Angel. It had never been Angel; it had been Doyle all along and he had done that. He'd found his redemption. He'd saved their lives and thousands of others too. Angel knew he should have found comfort in that, Cordelia knew too but neither of them did. They felt proud, yes, but not comfort.

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"_If you need help, then look no further. Angel Investigations is the BEST!"_

That accent that had been so sweet, so husky filled her ears and tears filled her eyes. Cordelia stared at the television screen, watching the commercial that had only been filmed yesterday. Death was such a fickle thing. One minute, somebody was with you. They were talking, walking, breathing, kissing, hugging, touching...they were there and they were a part of your life. And then in just one simple blink, they were gone. There was nothing left to remind you of them. There was no sign that they had ever even been there apart from the memories that were in your head and you were left to wonder; were they there? Was this person a dream? It was impossible to believe that just less than twenty four hours ago, Doyle had been with her. He had been helping them. He had been talking to her; he had been asking her to go on a date with him...how could he be taken from her just like that?

It didn't make sense to Cordelia. She didn't want it to make sense. She just wanted Doyle and she couldn't have him. Her arms wrapped around her knees as she hugged them tighter to her chest and she bit down on her lower lip as it begun to quiver. A tear rolled down her cheek and she felt a hand on her shoulder as Angel stood behind her, able to smell the salty water without even needing to look at her face.

"_Our rats are low – "_

"_**Rates!**__"_

"_It says rats..."_

Cordelia let out a strange gurgled noise as she held back a sob. She had been so mean to him in the past; she had always knocked him back and this video was a reminder of that. God; she had told him he'd had _weasel _factor. Why? She was selfish, that's why. She wanted to have her cake and eat it too. Cordelia spent all her life waiting for somebody rich and handsome and muscular to come in and sweep her off her feet, that she hadn't realized what was right in front of her. Doyle might not have riches, but...he had a heart. He was a hero. He would have protected her, cherished her, loved her...and Cordelia had spent so long trying to fight her feelings for him because her own pathetic commitment issues. Her friendship with Doyle had been a strong bond...she didn't want to wind up the way her and Xander Harris had wound up. She didn't want to hate him; the thought of hating Doyle wasn't pleasant and so she knocked him back. She knocked him back because _she, _Cordelia Chase, had actually been nervous about dating with the intent of getting attached to someone. She had been scared of getting to attached to Doyle; of ruining what they already had.

Now they had nothing.

"_Our rates are low, but our standards are high. When the chips are down, and you're at the end of your rope, you need someone that you can count on. And that's what you'll find here – someone that will go all the way, no matter what. "So don't lose hope. Come on over to our offices and you'll see that there's still heroes in this world."_

Doyle had gone all the way. Cordelia had always known that he was a superhero – a badly dressed one mind, but a superhero none the less. She had always known he had something, even if she had never shown that she knew this, but...what he had done, his sacrifice...she was proud of him. She wanted to be proud of him anyway, but her grief seemed to prevent he from being proud. She was angry, more than anything. She was angry at herself for letting it happen, for not stopping him. She was angry at Doyle for leaving her like this, for kissing her like that, for looking at her with so much emotion and then just jumping to his death. She was angry at the Scourge for being the pathetic creatures they had been. She was angry at the Listers for not being able to cope with their own problems. She was angry at Angel for not getting up that ladder in time. She was so angry and her angry was uncalled for; her blame was unfair but she felt as if she had to blame someone because for some reason, it made her feel better.

"_Is that it?"_

Cordelia's cheeks were damp with silent tears that had been falling and she visibly flinched at the last three words of the video.

"_Am I done?"_

And then the tape went blank; Doyle's nervous looking face was gone.

_Doyle _was gone.

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**A/N; **MY GOD THAT WAS PAINFUL TO WRITE. And I'm sorry if it was painful to read. Please review if you have the time. Chapter Two should be up shortly; I hope!


	2. Hard To Force That Smile

**DISCLAIMER; **I do not own anything and I never will. I wish I owned Doyle, but I don't. The only thing I own is my imagination and that is all. Everything else belongs to its rightful owners. I am not getting any credit out of other people's creations.

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**A SELFLESS ACT;  
**_Cordelia Chase/Allen Francis Doyle  
_**Doyle's death devastated many, though affected Cordelia the most. All chances of telling him how she felt **lost**. All chances of having a happy ending with her funny little Irishman **gone. **Six months have passed and Cordelia is learning to cope with her visions; learning to cope without him. But just as she decides it's time to move on, he returns to her; calling for her help. He's not really there...is he? Stuck in limbo, refusing to let go, Doyle's love for Cordelia has him clinging on. He refuses to depart before he gets one last chance to tell her how he felt. But can he tell her before the hell hounds finally tear him down to the fiery pits? Can Cordelia save him in a selfless act of love? **

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**CHAPTER TWO; **NEVER FORGET  
**SONG; **WHAT HURTS THE MOST – CASCADA

Six months. Six long, hard and lonely months had passed since the death of their dearly beloved Allen Francis Doyle. It had been so difficult at first; Cordelia had found it impossible to look anywhere, go anywhere or even say anything without being reminded of her friend. He left behind so few belongings, but so many sweet memories. Every so often, Cordelia would wake and for a few blissful seconds, she would believe that the whole thing had been a nightmare; that any second now she would hear Doyle at her door, demanding to know why she was late for work because she had been out the previous night with her friends, trying to keep the very little social life she had left alive. That small bit of hope never lasted though; the truth soon caught up with her and she found herself running out of reasons to pull herself out of bed in the mornings. The brunette had stayed away from the office for two weeks after the death. She even avoided Angel. She'd just wanted to be alone; to wallow in self pity. But then the first vision had hit her and she'd known she couldn't ignore them.

Cordelia had been so pissed off with Doyle when that first mind-numbing pain had been struck upon her without warning. She'd thought their kiss had meant something; that it had been him announcing unspoken feelings he would never get the chance to speak. Instead, it had just been his way of passing over his stupid cursed gift to her so that Angel could carry on fighting the good fight. She had almost felt like the kiss had been more for Angel than for her. She knew different now though. It had taken her a while to accept, but she soon had. A realization had hit her and thanks to a few encouraging words from Angel and a crazy demon who wanted to sell her eyes, Cordelia accepted the fact that Doyle had given her his gift with a purpose, a true heart-felt purpose. He had given her his most prized possession; the one valuable thing that he'd ever owned. He had _chosen _her; trusted her with an enormous responsibility because he had believed in her. He had believed that she would be able to cope; that she had the power within her to help the innocent lives he himself could no longer save. His belief gave her a reason to carry on with her life; gave her a reason to get out of bed in the morning and go to work. The power was her reason to carry on now; they were proof that this was what Doyle wanted. He wanted her to help the helpless, even if he wasn't around to guide her anymore.

At the same time though, they were a painful reminder and she wasn't just on about the headaches that they left her with. Each time she received one of her brain flashes of danger, her heart had felt like it was being clenched in somebody's fist, the life being squashed out of it. Each vision was a reminder of her grief; of what and _who _she had lost. For months after, Cordelia had continued to blame herself. Guilt had built a wedge inside of her, constantly making her wonder if there was more she could have done for her friend, for the man she had never admitted to falling for. If only she had been nicer to him. If only she had let her walls down. If only she had spoken the truth rather than hiding away because she was...well, to say the least, _ashamed _of her feelings and afraid of commitment. She had been so scared to get close to him and that selfish side of her had been so convinced that these feelings for false; that she deserved better. If only for one second, she had given a damn about somebody other than herself than maybe Doyle would still be here. All these doubts crawled through her mind every single day and while she could ignore them, she could never forget them. The visions made sure of that.

Eventually though; it got easier. Six months passed and Cordelia found that her life was building itself back up. They had a bigger team now; it had been a shock when Wesley had randomly made a show, but he had proved himself worthy, proved himself a capable member of Angel Investigations. Gunn...well, he was a hard one to read. He was rude and obnoxious most of the time, not to mention the snide comments he made towards her and her 'incapability' to help others. However, he was a good member – a good fighter. If they needed extra muscle, he was perfect. He could kick some serious ass. Nobody would ever be able to replace Doyle. Both she and Angel knew that. However, the extra help was appreciated and soon, the grief was a lot easier to deal with. The pain had subsided. Things finally felt as though they were becoming normal again.

Staring at her reflection, Cordelia took in a deep breath and forced a smile upon her face. The lips that were coloured with a light red lipstick looked strained where her smile wasn't as genuine as she wished it could be. Why wasn't it genuine? She looked fantastic – more so than usual, that is. Her dress was a deep red, made out of silk so smooth; she could just stand there and run her fingers over the material all day. It clung to her frame in an elegant manner that left to the imagination, but also emphasized her curves enough to trigger a man's lust. Her facial features were defined with touches of makeup and her hair was free, the curls pooling over her shoulders and down her back. Her date was almost – _almost _– just as good looking as she was and...He was a good guy. He totally matched up to all the expectations she wanted. Money in his wallet thanks to mummy and daddy, chocolate eyes that could melt a woman's heart, a smile that dazzled and left other's breathless...so why wasn't her smile genuine? Why did something not feel right?

She knew. Deep down, she knew. She was damaged goods. Doyle had spoiled her. Every time she looked into those chocolate eyes, she just wanted to see piercing blue. Every time he dazzled her with that smile, she just wanted to see that lopsided nervous one Doyle often flashed her after making a crude comment or after she caught him staring at her backside. Every time he spoke in that well-mannered voice, she longed to hear an Irish accent instead. She wanted him to be Doyle and he wasn't. Nobody ever would be. Tears stung her eyes and her head dropped down as she bit down on her lower lip, trying to stop it from quivering as she sniffed. Moving on was a lot harder than she had ever anticipated it to be. The first soldier had fallen and Cordelia found coping difficult than ever. There were days when she was fine, but then something would remind her and she would spiral back down.

"Cordelia?"

The sound of Angel's voice made her jump and a small gasp parted from her lips as she spun around to face him. There was a damp stain down her right cheek where a tear had escaped but her hand moved up quickly and swiped it away. "Angel." She breathed out, trying to make her voice sound calm and collect, as if she hadn't just been crying. One hand lifted, fingers brushing through her hair as if she was trying to plump it up and she straightened herself out, holding her arms out to her sides for inspection. "How do I look?"

Cordelia might consider herself an actress, but she couldn't lie to Angel. Even if he hadn't seen that stain down her cheek, he would still be able to smell the salty substance of her tears. He could feel the grief emitting from her body, feel her pain. He knew; he was feeling it too. Angel had lost a lot of people in his lifetime. He had never lost somebody he'd cared about. He had never felt as useless as he did the night he watched Doyle sacrifice himself. Cordelia's grief was different though. Cordelia had loved Doyle in a way Angel could never love him, mainly because Angel wasn't gay. Well, there was that time with Spike, but that had only happened once. Okay, possibly twice. But that was it! And he'd been evil then. Clearing his throat, he sighed and smiled ever so slightly when Cordelia asked him how she looked. As usual, she looked stunning, but he didn't tell her that. Moving forward, he kept his eyes folded over his chest, his eyes penetrating into hers as if he were reading his soul. "Cordelia..." He spoke softly and knowingly.

Cordelia's demeanour wavered as she recognised the tone in his voice. She couldn't fool him. Her arms fell back to her side and she hung her head, wrinkling her nose. "I know; I should be a bit happier, right? I mean, I've got this _gorgeous _investment banker who could probably spend the rest of my life buying me expensive diamonds coming to take me on a date and...I look miserable. I can't even smile believably. Some actress, huh?" She glanced back up and laughed weakly, no humour in the sound.

Angel offered her a comforting smile as he stopped in front of her, looking down at her with concern clear in his expression. "What's wrong?" He asked her quietly, his tone cautious, approaching the situation as best he could.

"It's nothing, really." Cordelia tried to brush the situation off, raising her hand and making a shooing motion as she turned back around to face the mirror. Her fingers swiped underneath both eyes to clear it of any falling tears and once again, forced a grin. "I'm just being silly. That's all. I'll be fine. I promise."

She was lying again and Angel knew it. He didn't say anything; he merely stared at her with a look of disbelief and as she turned back around to face him, she knew that he wasn't going to let her leave until he knew what was wrong with her. Biting down on her lower lip, Cordelia shut her eyes tight and took in a deep breath, her shoulders heaving up and down in a shrug of defeat. "It's just...well; this is the first _proper _date I've been on since...since Doyle left. I mean; sure, I've had coffee with him and he's bought me presents, but well; that's just normal things. But this...this is a _date_. This is an expensive restaurant, a walk home...possibly invitations to come for 'coffee' which we all know never ends up being just coffee and – "She was babbling now and more tears were beginning to sparkle in her eyes. So much pain seemed to etched out on her pretty face and it pained Angel inside to see his friend so broken up inside.

"Cordelia; you don't have to do anything you're not ready to do." Angel told her quietly, never taking his eyes off of her, barely even blinking. "I understand what you're going through – "

"Do you?" Cordelia sounded almost defensive and even somewhat accusing as she said this. Her eyes stared at him with a slightly desperate look with them and her carefully plucked eyebrows were drawn down into a frown. "I mean, no offence, Angel, but _do you_? Doyle was more than a friend to me. He was...he was _Doyle_. He loved me and...and I felt for him. I loved him too but I never told him. I mean, his taste in clothing was like a Greek tragedy and sure, he drank _way _too much, but I _loved_ him. He was one of the only things I had in my life that was real and the Powers That Be took that from me. He's gone and he's not coming back and six months on, I have this amazing guy who wants to keep me in blue boxes for the rest of my life, I mean seriously, you see this necklace?" Her hand pointed at the real diamonds pined around her neck. "They cost more than your entire wardrobe – not that that's hard...And yet...I'm still not happy because...he's not Doyle. He's not who I want and I don't know how I'm supposed to get past this."

Angel had to look away. His eyes flickered down to the floor and the vampire was silent for a few moments. "In that respect, I guess I don't know what you're going through." He muttered quietly. "Listen...Cordelia – "

"I don't want to forget, Angel." Cordelia finally admitted, her voice soft and shaking slightly as she finally spoke about what she was feeling. She had been holding it in ever since Graham had come into her life, but now the truth was spilling out. She'd started and now she couldn't stop. "Every day that passes by, it's harder to remember. He's fading, Angel. I can't remember his laugh anymore...or his scent...I can barely see his smile. Each step I take closer to Graham, the further I step away from Doyle...the more gone he becomes. I don't want to fall out of love with him, Angel. This date – it's the big one. I know that, I'm not socially retarded when it comes to dating like you are and Doyle was. I know exactly what happens on dates like these and...if I go on it; if I walk out that door with Graham, then...I'm letting go. I'm accepting there's no Doyle anymore. I'm moving on. And I know I should do that, but...I don't know if I can. I don't want to forget how much he meant to me. I don't want to replace him. I mean, god – "

"Cordelia." Angel finally managed to get her to fall quiet and her babbling came to a stop. Her ears were sparkling with tears and a few had even managed to escape, smudging her make up slightly – which she wasn't going to be happy about when she realized. The male vampire watched his friend for a few moments and he could see the devastation etched out across her face. He had thought things were getting easier, but they weren't. Cordelia's acting was just getting better. Slowly, he walked towards her and muscular arms wrapped around her, pulling her against him. Her face fell into his cold chest, a choked sob parting from the back of her throat as she gave in and stopped trying to hold it back. "Cordelia, Doyle...he would want you to be happy. Just because you're seeing somebody else, that doesn't mean you're going to forget him. He'll always be a part of us. He'll always be a part of _you_. He wouldn't want you to be stuck indoors, mourning him for the rest of your youthful life. He'd want you to be out there, enjoying yourself...having a drink on him..." He laughed slightly at his pathetic attempt at a joke, though thankfully he felt Cordelia release a small chuckle as well.

Cordelia pulled away from her friend, lifting her hand to wipe across her cheeks, trying to wipe away the tears as she sniffed. "You know; this is all Doyle's fault to begin with." She muttered in a tone that resembled a sulking child. "If he hadn't been so darn cute, I would have been able to ignore him and I would never have felt like this! And what right did he have, making me feel all this and then just leaving like that? It's – " Her words were cut off as she felt the dull throb in the back of her head begin to grow, every muscle in her body suddenly going rather tense and rigid. "Oh no." She muttered. Not now; please not now. A vision was the last thing she needed. She had enough emotional pain to deal with right this second; she didn't want physical pain to add to the list.

There was no holding back on a vision though. Seconds later, the pain struck. It was as if something had just clocked her round the head with something large and metal or as if lightening had just been struck down by Zeus himself and was now coursing through her body. Letting out a strangled cry of pain, her head threw itself backwards from the force that that the vision cast upon her. She lost her balance, her body falling to one side, though thankfully Angel was there to catch her before she could tumble to the floor. Her body shuddered and shook, looking as though she were suffering from an epelectic fit and Angel clung tight to her, tried to soothe her with murmured words, though knowing that nothing would actually make the pain fade. Cordelia's hands gripped at his shirt for support, practically ripping the material where she clung so tight with her manicured nails. Her eyes were tightly shut, refusing to open as the vision played in her mind.

_There was fire, screaming, pain – so much pain, animalistic and demonic growling. It all passed by in flashes and none of it made much sense. Who was screaming for help? Why was there so much fire when there didn't seem to be anything to burn? It wasn't a house, it wasn't a building of any kind...it was just fire – a big pit of burning flames. She could practically feel the heat melting her skin. "No! No, please! I don't belong there!" The person who had previously been screaming was now begging and Cordelia suddenly felt cold from head to foot, despite the heat of her vision. She knew that voice. She knew that accent. It sounded huskier than she remembered; it sounded strained and hurt, but it was him. It was Doyle. She wanted to call out to him, scream for him, find out where he was but she couldn't. The vision only allowed her to see what the Powers wanted her to see. She couldn't just freeze frame and take a look around. The flames grew hotter and the growls grew louder. The heat was beginning to get over bearing and Cordelia wanted to scream, but she didn't. She couldn't. "Cordelia..." That familiar voice whispered her name and it sounded like he was cry; like he was pleading for her. She wanted to tell him it was okay; that she was here now, but again, she couldn't. Flames danced in front of her eyes and then suddenly, she was racing forward, as if she were in a car and going full speed. Everything was a blur as she passed more fire, demons, people screaming in pain and then everything came to a stop and someone was knelt on the ground in front of her. _

_He was naked, his wrists in chains and held above his head. There were so many markings over his body; cuts, bruises, scorch marks...some looked as though they were healing and others look incredibly fresh and painful, possibly even infected. His head was hung down, a faint sheen of sweat shimmering on his pale skin as he panted for air, choking every now and then as if he couldn't breathe properly. Dark hair seemed to be tatty and dirty, tainted with bits of ash and debris. He was shaking, crying and Cordelia felt so much pity for him. What was happening to him? Where was he? It wasn't anywhere she knew; it wasn't in LA. She was so confused. Her vision wasn't giving her any information, it was just taunting her, showing her people she couldn't save and playing on her grief. The man groaned in anguish, his head slowly lifting and that was when Cordelia realized who it was. Blue eyes that had once been so full of life now stared at her, full of pain and sorrow, no light shining in them anymore. "Help me." He whispered in his Irish accent. _

_And then Doyle was suddenly screaming and Cordelia felt it too. She felt the indescribable pain; the burning, as if her insides were on fire and she couldn't put them out. The pain didn't stop, it got worse and worse the louder the screams got. It wasn't just Doyle screaming now; she could hear at least a dozen screams, all of them in agony. _

The sound of Cordelia's screaming was bouncing off of the walls and Angel tried to wake her up, yelling her name to call her back to reality, but nothing seemed to wake her up. She withered and screamed in his arms and it took him all his strength to keep her there, to not accidently drop her onto the floor. Her face was twisted up in pain, her eyes still shut tight. "Cordelia!" Angel yelled, his fingertips probably bruising her where they were now gripping her so tight. The door burst open as Wesley ran in, wielding an axe, thinking a demon was there. When he caught sight of what was happening though, he just froze, staring with wide eyes, unsure of what to do, waiting for an order from Angel though he never got one. The vampire was too preoccupied trying to pull his friend out of her pain-causing vision. All of a sudden, her eyes snapped open, but she didn't stop screaming. She pushed Angel off of her, not realizing it was him. The pain was gone but her hands were now batting at the sides of her dress, as if trying to put out imaginary flames. Angel reached forward and grabbed hold of her shoulders. "Cordelia! Cordelia; it's okay, you're safe."

Cordelia struggled in Angel's arms as he shouted over her screams, but slowly, she realized she wasn't in the vision anymore. She was back in the office; Angel was there to protect her and Wesley was...well, just there. Doyle was gone – again. She could still hear the screams though. Her body still had a dull throb coursing through it from the previous pain she'd shared with Doyle. Her eyes were wide with horror clear in them. There was a faint sheen on her forehead and she was panting for oxygen, her throat dry from the heat, screaming and from the shock. Her hands were shaking; her whole body was shaking. She could vaguely hear Angel's voice in the distance asking her what she saw and where he needed to go, what he needed to kill but she couldn't answer. There was an annoying humming buzz surrounding her ears and she couldn't think straight; couldn't see properly or hear anything. Doyle's screams and words were still echoing around in her head and she couldn't erase them. Angel's hands fell down on her shoulders and he turned her around to face him, his eyes staring down at her and she stared back up, barely seeing him. He was blurred; as if she needed glasses but wasn't wearing them right now. "Cordelia; what did you see?!" Angel asked her in desperation.

What did she see? Cordelia looked away, staring over Angel's shoulder. Was that Doyle she could see? No; no it was Wesley, her mind was just playing tricks on her. He looked just as blurry as Angel. "Doyle." She whispered, her voice weak and full of vulnerability that was never normally there. No; it didn't make sense. Why would Doyle be in a place like that? He'd fought the good fight; he'd died a hero, why was he being punished? And why couldn't the Powers That Be show her more? She felt useless. She couldn't help him; she couldn't save a ghost especially when she didn't know where the hell he was! Her head went mad with all these questions that she longed to hear the answers for. His screams were still fresh. His pain, the heat, the flames...God; was he in _hell_? No. He couldn't be. It didn't make sense.

"Oh god, Doyle!" She choked out, remembering the pain he'd been in, all those marks on his body, that look in his eyes, the chain, the fire...it was all too much. Her head shook in denial and her knees buckled under her weight. Seconds later, she was falling. She was falling and she couldn't stop herself. By the time her body hit the floor, everything had gone black and she'd fallen unconscious with Angel kneeling beside her, demanding Wesley to get a wet towel and water.


	3. Dreams Or Nightmares?

**DISCLAIMER;**I do not own anything and I never will. The only thing I own is my imagination and that is all. Everything else belongs to its rightful owners. I am not getting any credit out of other people's creations.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE; **It's taken me a while to update this and I'm sorry, unfortunately, I just have a lot of things going on that prevent me from updating as often as I'd like. Hopefully I'll be able to start updating more regularly soon! I've taken today to just sit back and update everything I can, as much as I can.

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**A SELFLESS ACT;  
**_Cordelia Chase/Allen Francis Doyle  
_**Doyle's death devastated many, though affected Cordelia the most. All chances of telling him how she felt**lost**. All chances of having a happy ending with her funny little Irishman**gone. **Six months have passed and Cordelia is learning to cope with her visions; learning to cope without him. But just as she decides it's time to move on, he returns to her; calling for her help. He's not really there...is he? Stuck in limbo, refusing to let go, Doyle's love for Cordelia has him clinging on. He refuses to depart before he gets one last chance to tell her how he felt. But can he tell her before the hell hounds finally tear him down to the fiery pits? Can Cordelia save him in a selfless act of love?**

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**CHAPTER THREE; **DREAMS OR NIGHTMARES?  
**SONG; **NEVER ALONE – BARLOW GIRL

_His lips were smooth, the way she remembered them, as he traced his mouth over her collar bone. Her eyes shut in pure bliss and she let out a sigh, her back arching up ever so slightly, her body itching to just be touched by him, to be taken by him. His own hands had woven their way through his dark hair, the strands smooth against her flesh as she pushed his head that little bit closer, guiding him to her neck, one of her most sensitive areas. He followed her guidance, nipping playfully at the flesh of her neck, leaving a faint red mark, kissing it afterwards to soothe it._

_His hand glided up her thigh, fingers moving underneath the silk night gown, tips brushing feather light over the flesh underneath, moving closer to her most sacred area; an area that was currently throbbing for him, begging for him to just touch her there. She hummed in delight and wiggled her hips, trying to get closer. He laughed and stopped his hand, shaking his head against her neck, murmuring something about how she needed to be patient._

_She didn't want to be patient; she was Cordelia Chase, she always got what she wanted. Her head tilted to the side and her teeth took his lob in between her teeth, nibbling it playfully, causing a grunt to vibrate in the back of his throat. She smirked, proud of the response she had gotten. Her hands slid free from his hair and moved over his shoulders, down the muscles of his pale skinned back, exploring whatever area she could. His skin felt so delicate; like marble. She vaguely felt his hands slid the straps of her night gown down, tugging the flimsy material off with expert ease, but she didn't pay much attention to her sudden bareness as her hands twisted to explore his chest. It wasn't perfect toned abs, but it was beautifully sculpted either way. _

_His mouth closed around her right breast without warning and she groaned in encouragement, her eyes shutting tighter at the pleasure that coursed through her body. She felt his hand begin to move again and it wasn't long before two fingers were stroking her, teasing her with back and forth ministrations but never once entering her. Her breathing began ragged. Droplets of sweat began to appear on her forehead as his tongue flicked around, his teeth nipped, his mouth sucked, his fingers stroked...he was driving her crazy. He was refusing to give her what she wanted; she knew he wanted her to beg, wanted her to plead and whither but she was too stubborn for that. Her fingernails scratched at his back, hoping to hurt him enough to make him give in, but he never did. One finger slipped into her wet entrance and her eyes opened, staring up at the ceiling as she bucked her hips against his hand, wanting more. Instead, he settled there for a while before withdrawing and going back to his strokes, laughing huskily against her breast._

_He kissed away from her breast, trailed his tongue down the centre of his stomach. His hand moved away from her and instead, lowered to rest on her thigh, parting her legs even more. He settled his head in between her legs and kissed at her right thigh, sucking a little area of flesh there, purposely leaving a mark, almost as if he was branding her; owning her. She loved that feeling. Her hands moved to rest at his head and she tried to push his face where she wanted it, her hips wriggling beneath him. This time he gave her what she wanted. His tongue was hot and moist against her, licking at her slit and she cried out, slamming her head back down against the pillow at the waves that crashed over her, making her shudder. He lapped at her playfully at first, swirling his tongue around her swollen clit, before pushing it inside of her; pushing it as far as it could go. She would never have imagined that his tongue could do such wonderful things, but it could. She felt as if she was drifting up into heaven and despite his teasing, despite his passion, he had this ability of making her feel...sacred, like he was honoured to get this chance to touch her._

_His tongue continued its skilful mission, moving in and out of her, tasting her with pure enjoyment. Occasionally he would close his mouth around the throbbing bud and suck hard, suck enough to make her scream out his name. There were even times when he would bring his hand up and add more to the foreplay that he was offering her by sliding his fingers into her centre, touching her in ways no man had ever touched her before. _

"_Oh 'Delia..." She heard him groan in his Irish accent against her, breathing hot air on her as he did so. _

_He spoke her name like she was the most precious item he'd ever known. "Doyle..." She cooed back in response, stroking her fingers through his hair encouragingly. His mouth was upon her once more, fiercer than before, desperate to pleasure her and pleasure her it did. It wasn't long before her hands were groping at the bed sheets, her body shimmering with perspiration as she writhed and moaned, unsure of what to do with herself, feeling as though the whole world was about to collapse on her. Her body was throbbing with raw passion, the muscles in her stomach tensing tighter and tighter and without warning, waves of complete desire and pleasure crashed over her, an orgasm rippling through her like no other before. She panted, moaned, groaned, cried, screamed...any noise that could be made, she managed to make it. It was over all too soon and rather than let him tease her anymore than he already had, she dug her fingernails into his shoulders and yanked him up, pushing him over onto his back. Her legs fell either side of him, instantly straddling him, feeling an impressive manhood digging into her thigh. "Now, I think it's time to take you for a little – " She began, but as she looked down, she wasn't welcomed by the face she expected._

_It was Doyle, there was no doubt about that, but it was not the Doyle she remembered. His face was rotted with dead flesh peeling off, his eyes blood shot and dark, looking deadly, looking...ready to kill her. She screamed and tried to climb off but skeleton like hands grabbed her wrists, dug into them so tight it would bruise. "What's wrong, Cordy? Too afraid to look at the man you let _die_?!" He yelled, leaning up so that his face was dangerously close to hers, so close she could smell the putrid stench of a corpse. She screamed more, tried to wriggle free, but it was no use. "You let me die!" He screamed at her and tears streamed from her face. Was that what Doyle really believed? Did he blame her for his out come? Was this a dream gone wrong? A night mare from the start...or another vision? Was this truly her Doyle, talking to her through a vision, letting her know exactly what he thought of her?_

"_Please, I didn't – I would of done anything – "She tried to plead with him, but he started shaking her repeatedly._

"_SHUT UP, BITCH!" He screamed and he threw her off him. She hit the ground hard, rolling slightly. She felt dizzy, but tried her hardest to scramble to her feet. He moved in seconds though and it wasn't longer before he was on top of her again, pinning her down to the cold floor, his hand around her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut and his spare hand pinched her jaw. "Look at me!" He demanded. "Look at what you did to me!" _

"_No!" She screamed, sobbing with every word that she now spoke. "I didn't mean – I'm sorry. I didn't..." She didn't know what to say. All pleasure and happiness she had previously been feeling was gone. Now all she felt was fear, sorry, guilt, grief...it was all beginning to consume her. _

"_Cordelia!" She heard a voice call to her in the distance; a voice that was an Irish brogue. A voice that she recognised, but she couldn't answer. It sounded so distant, so far away. Whoever it was wouldn't reach her in time; Doyle would kill her by then, kill her the way she had let him die. She had always known it was her fault; always known she should have tried harder to stop him, reached for him before he jumped or begged him to stay. She should never have been as mean as she was; never teased him so much, but just been honest with him from the start about how she felt, then he would have had a reason to stay alive. It was her fault; she just couldn't stand the fact that he knew that. "Please, Doyle, I never meant to let you die. I'm so sorry..." Her voice was choked, his fingers squeezing tighter and tighter at her wind pipe, his laughter echoing around her ears. _

"_Cordelia!" He continued to shake, shake, shake –_

Cordelia's eyes snapped open. She screamed, tears streaming down her cheeks as she tried to escape the person shaking her. "No! I'm sorry! Get off!" She shrieked.

"Cordelia! Cordelia, it's me; it's Angel, you're okay!" Angel shouted over her sounds. It took her a while to realise what he said, but eventually, she calmed down. Her chest heaved up and down as she panted air in and her eyes were wide as she became aware of her surroundings. She was safe; she was awake. It had all been a nightmare...or at least, she hoped it was a night mare. Wesley was staring at her with pure concern on his face while Gunn looked as though he thought she was insane. Angel was perched on the end of the bed, his hands gripped tight at Cordelia's forearms as he tried to make her see sense. She looked wild at the moment – like an untamed beast. Her hair was sticking up in all different directions, her skin shimmered with a faint shine of sweat, her eyes were wild and refusing to blink...she looked so damaged, so broken as her brown orbs darted from side to side, trying to find a threat; trying to find Doyle. He wasn't there though. He was gone. He was always gone when she woke up; that was the harsh reality of it.

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**COMING UP NEXT; **Cordelia explains her vision to Angel and Wesley. Angel goes to get some answers from Lilah and the Oracles to see if there's a way to save Doyle. Is there?


End file.
